a woman, her daughter, and a great wide world

supernova

she shouts this now as she sprints from one end of the apartment to the other and back again.

ahhhh! schfwing! ahhhh! schwing! ahhhhh! aschfwing!

she declaims this as she runs in circles around the the kitchen.

my live-out-hubby is sitting in the middle of my kitchen. she’s orbiting him like a mildly erratic star threatening to hit supernova status.

‘how long has she been at this?’ i ask. i hadn’t looked at the clock when it started.

‘i dunno. ten minutes? but this is nothing. she’ll do this at my apartment for, like, an hour.”

ahhhh! schwing! crash. ahhhhh! schwing! crash.

the crashes represent the ever increasing moments that she loses her balance in exhaustion and careens off-track into the fridge, spraying magnets everywhere. or bounces off a chair and lands against the cabinet, laughing wildly.

ahhhhh! aschwing! ahhhhh! crash. schwing! crash. aaaaah!

‘how long has it been? half an hour? good grief.’ this is me. i can’t believe she’s still going. i try and tempt her with how exciting it will be to put on some pajamas and calm down and read books.